Off the Pitch
by foolondahill17
Summary: Of Quaffles, Bludgers, Snitches, and tales straight from the locker-room. The House rivalries, broken arms, legs, noses, and hearts; Quidditch season is every season and no one's died in ages, so captains shake hands, mount your brooms, release the snitch, and let the game begin. The Gryffindor Quidditch team, through the ages. Featuring Charlie, Oliver, Angelina, Minerva and more.
1. Technicalities

Title: Off the Pitch

Summary: Of Quaffles, Bludgers, Snitches, and tales straight from the locker-room. The House rivalries, broken arms, legs, noses, and hearts; Quidditch season is every season and no one's died in ages, so captain's shake hands, mount your brooms, release the snitch, and let the game begin. The Gryffindor Quidditch team, through the ages. Featuring Charlie, Oliver, Angelina, Alicia, Katie, George, Fred, Minerva and loads more.

Disclaimer: I do not own it

Author's Note: This is a collection of one-shots of varying length, ridiculousness, and chronological order. Featuring different players – mostly revolving around Gryffindors – and their interactions with each other. I hope you enjoy and please drop a line, I'd appreciate it immensely.

To be updated sporadically

Written because I love sports, and know with intimacy the kind of camaraderie, aversion, disappointed, and fervor they can inspire.

* * *

Technicalities:

"Twenty-three!" Yelled Professor McGonagall in their faces. She was standing hunch-backed, and arms braced on the top of the desk. Her face was red, hair disheveled, and spit almost flying from her mouth. Fred and George had never seen her so irate. "Twenty-three charmed desks! How – what – Timothy Davis is in the _Hospital_!"

"Technically –" began George.

"The _Hospital_, Mr. Weasley. There is nothing technical about it! What were you thinking? What possessed you –? In a classroom full of Slytherins!"

"Well, that was basically the point –" began Fred.

"Silence, Mr. Weasley! You could be expelled for this! Twenty-three desks tap-dancing across the classroom! _My_ classroom! The disrespect – unutterable stupidity – What am I supposed to do with you?"

"They weren't supposed to tap-dance."

"I imagined more of a waltz –"

"One more word from either of you and I'll send you out packing!" screamed Professor McGonagall. Fred and George obliged, if nothing else then to save her from spontaneous combustion. "Of all the irresponsible – never has Hogwarts seen – I don't know what was to be gained by it – enough already to worry about without having you two blundering – and with the Slytherin match tomorrow – _why_ you couldn't have waited until next Monday – I don't know what Gryffindor is going to do without their two Beaters –"

"Professor!" said George, abhorred.

"You wouldn't!" said Fred.

"Wouldn't I, Mr. Weasley!" said Professor McGonagall. "Goodness knows you deserve it!"

"But Gryffindor!"

"The Cup!"

"Perhaps losing the Quidditch Cup might knock a bit of sense into you!" said McGonagall, "I don't know what else will!"

"Professor!" they said in unison.

Professor McGonagall was a perfect image of trembling rage. Fred and George clamped their mouths shut, lest she really did carry out her threat.

"I am disappointed in you both," she said jerkily, seemingly barely containing her anger. "You have behaved irresponsibly – I – I really should – you would fully deserve it…."

Fred and George waited. _This_ was why the key was to not get caught.

"You will serve detention tonight – however long it takes you to finish clearing out Professor Sprout's storage shed. I suggest a thick pair of dragon hide gloves and something to cover your noses."

Fred and George could barely breathe.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor – each. That is all. You may go."

Fred and George exchanged glances. Professor McGonagall sat behind her desk and took out a quill and several crumpled rolls of parchment.

"Professor…" said Fred.

"That is _all_, Mr. Weasley," she said irritably, not looking up from the essays she was grading.

"But –" said George.

"That is all!" Fred looked at George and George looked at Fred. They looked back to Professor McGonagall's bowed head, and moved towards the door.

"Just be sure to finish it all tonight!" she snapped from behind their backs. "I want you up bright and early for that match tomorrow or they'll be worse to pay than detention!"

* * *

2. Author's Note: Here's a bit of Weasley silliness. Some of the updates will be along these lines while some will hopefully hold a bit more gravity.


	2. Captainship

Captainship:

"Alright team, listen up," said Charlie Weasley from the back of the locker-room. Oliver looked up, from where he had been lovingly stowing his Keeper's gloves in the closet. Fred and George ceased their wrestling. Angelina carefully finished folding her uniform, keeping one eye on Charlie and one on Fred and George. Millie and Aiden listened with quiet courtesy.

Charlie cleared his throat and looked at his mud-spattered boots. To Oliver, Charlie appeared nervous. Charlie never looked nervous. It was enough for Oliver to quietly close the closet door and take a seat on the bench. An evident solemn aura penetrated the locker-room, smelling of sweat and dirt. Even Fred and George seemed to sense it and quieted their antics.

"What's up, Charlie?" said Aiden.

Charlie cleared his throat again. "I've – I've got something to tell you all."

"We guessed as much," muttered George to Fred, earning himself a cuff on the ear from Millie.

Charlie half-smiled. "I'm afraid you're not all going to like it." This, it seemed, sealed the deal. Oliver waited with bated breath.

"As some of you know," began Charlie again. His voice sounded funny. He kept clearing his throat, as though he was bothered by allergies. "I've been offered a place on England's reserve squad – after I've finished here." Charlie coughed again. No one said anything. The locker-room was as silent as Oliver had ever experienced it. "I – I've also been offered an internship. It's an affiliated branch of the Department of Magical Creatures it's – well, it's in Romania. At a Norwegian Richback reserve…."

Still no one spoke. Oliver felt something slide onto his chest, something that boded no good. Almost without realizing it, he felt his face fall into a frown and eyebrows furrow.

"Well you – you guys know how much I enjoy Care of Magical Creatures class," said Charlie, rather desperately.

"Yeah," whispered Fred, but there was no sign of the usual mockery in his voice.

"And I – this is something I've wanted for – for a long time," Charlie coughed and pulled at the collar of his robes. "I've been thinking it over for a while. I haven't wanted to say anything because I didn't want to get anyone worried. But – they – they expect my answer by next week and I can't put it off any longer…. I, well I've decided to take up the internship."

Apparently this was the climax. No one said anything. Oliver waited.

"Well, that's spanking, Charlie!" said George with a grin.

"Brilliant!" agreed Fred.

Millie shushed them viciously.

"I'll be leaving next Friday after the first," said Charlie.

It was as though someone had taken several dozen buckets of chilled acid and dumped them over their heads. The shock, the sting and disbelief, could not have been more pointed.

Millie gasped and then stifled herself. Fred and George exchanged wide-eyed glances. Aiden's shoulders slumped. Angelina, who always possessed a rock-solid resolve, seemed to go even stiffer then she usually was. Oliver felt as though he had been punched in his gut.

Charlie, now that he had gotten the worst over with, pressed on with hardly any notice to their reactions. "So, obviously that means I'll be missing the last match. Ravenclaw isn't that good so you still stand a decent chance…."

Either George or Fred scoffed. Charlie ignored them.

"It's too bad we couldn't pull off against Slytherin but – but we – we managed to beat Hufflepuff, which means we're tied in third –"

"Tied in fourth," corrected Millie gloomily.

"Even so," said Charlie, "you can't give up, not until that last Snitch is caught. Aiden, I've appointed you acting captain. We'll pull Alicia Spinnet up for Chaser and Millie – you'll be Seeker. Don't worry, you're more than decent.

"And listen – listen team – I – I'm sorry I'm pulling out on you like this but it isn't because I don't believe in you. It isn't because I'm disappointed with how hard you've worked. It's the opposite really -"

"Your pulling out on us because your proud of us?" said George. Millie hit him again.

Charlie pressed on, wearing an expression that suggested physical pain, "I trust you guys, and I'm impressed – truly impressed on how we've pulled together after that first match. So, so keep your heads up and keep going at it. I don't believe you've got it in you to start disappointing me now."

It was with a dejected atmosphere the practice was adjured. George and Fred left, muttering poisonously and shooting Charlie dark looks. No one else seemed upset with Charlie, just disappointed with the situation. Oliver put the rest of his gear away with care, feeling like he'd never been so let-down in his life.

"Hang on a minute, Oliver," said Charlie when Oliver prepared to leave. "I've got something I'd like to talk to you about." Charlie extinguished the light in the locker-room with his wand, and Oliver and he set off across the darkened grounds.

"With Aiden and Millie graduating this year," Charlie started, "you'll be the oldest one left."

Oliver didn't say anything. He was hardly listening. His kicked at a bit of dry grass while he walked.

"You know the graduating captain gets a say in who succeeds him, right?" Somewhere along the line, Charlie caught Oliver's attention. He stopped looking at the shadow bathed grass and glanced to Charlie, who was walking by his side and staring into the distance. "Well," continued Charlie, "I've had a chat with McGonagall – what with the internship and all. She asked if there was anyone on the team I thought should be considered for captain next year and I said that you were the most worthy on the team. She agreed."

Oliver stared at Charlie in amazement. He felt his mouth drop open as if preparing to say something, but he hadn't any idea what he was supposed to say. Finally Charlie looked over and flashed a mischievous grin, which immediately recalled Fred and George.

"I know it's against the rules to tell you beforehand, Oliver," said Charlie, "but let's just suggest you shouldn't be surprised if you get a badge in the mail over holidays."

Oliver felt his heart leap. Captain! Him? There must be some mistake. He was only – well, he would only be a fifth year. It wasn't unheard of, he supposed...but usually one didn't become a captain until sixth or seventh –

"I'm leaving you with a pretty decent lineup," Charlie was saying, "Fred and George are developing into a pair of – well, for lack of a better expression – _smashing_ Beaters. Finally they seem to be interested in hitting something other than their little brother. You've got Angelina as a Chaser and, to tell you the truth, I would have moved Alicia up to Chaser for the full year if I hadn't felt like I owed it to Aiden – what with him being on the team for all those years –"

Captain. Oliver was going to be _captain_. Wait until he told his dad…!

"And I'm sure you'll be able to fill 'er out with another Chaser. We've got you for Keeper, obviously, and your solid, Oliver. More than solid. There's just well…just a Seeker after that. But I'm sure someone will turn up…."

"There won't be anyone _near_ as good as you," said Oliver warmly, feeling that he had to say something. After all, _captain_….

Charlie coughed modestly in appreciation. "Well, all in all, I'd say you'll have a darn good chance at the Cup – darn good. I'll have to see if I can get away for the match…."

Oliver was going to be_ captain_.

"Anyway," said Charlie, coughing again. They had reached the castle. Charlie and Oliver turned to face each other. For the first time, Oliver felt his sense of wonder, of admiration when he looked up to Charlie, overtaken by a feeling of companionship – as if he and Charlie were _equals_. After all, Charlie was a captain, Oliver would _be_ a captain…. "I'll be around for a few weeks yet, Oliver. See you around…."

And then something extraordinary happened: Charlie stuck out his hand for Oliver to shake. It was as if Charlie, too, considered Oliver his _equal_.

Oliver smiled, "See you around," he said gruffly, adopting the most mature tone her could muster. He grasped Charlie's hand in his own, felt the heat and firmness of the handshake, and Charlie smiled grimly back. He nodded curtly, released Oliver's hand, and marched away without another word.

Oliver was left in the dimly lit entrance hall. He beamed to himself, feeling far superior to the boy who had gone out to practice earlier that afternoon.


	3. Heptagonal

Heptagonal:

"What about the other guy?" said Oliver, looking at Katie carefully, with his head tilted to the side so she wouldn't notice. "What's his name? Jordan? The one who used to commentate?"

"Lee?" said Katie with some surprise.

"Yeah, him," said Oliver gruffly, perhaps misinterpreting Katie's shock for enthusiasm. "Always liked him. Best commentator I've heard yet. Biased though."

Katie laughed, "You never heard Luna Lovegood."

"Lovegood?" said Oliver, genuine surprise sidetracking him. "She's that balmy girl right? One of Harry's friends?"

"Right," said Katie. "What were you saying about Lee?"

"Well just," Oliver searched for the right words, wanting to portray his message but half losing his nerve and wanting to materialize an excuse. "He and you are together, aren't you? I heard something from Angelina…."

Katie started, "What, Angelina spreading rumors?"

Oliver turned his head slightly so he wouldn't have to look her in the eye. Goodness gracious, he was twenty-seven-years-old. Adults had the right to be forward. "Lee's nice. I – I hope your happy, Katie."

"Oh no – Oliver – no… Lee," Katie hesitated and Oliver looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "Well, maybe I did like him – did, as in past tense. But he…he always liked Angelina, and what with Angelina being with George –"

"I thought Angelina liked Fred…" said Oliver. It was always hard, saying the name.

Katie hesitated, too, before she answered, "She did. George and she have worked things out…I think."

"Then what about Lee?" said Oliver, feeling painfully confused.

"He sulked for a good bit – that was when I like him – but now he's run off with Varity. You don't know her. She worked in George's shop…she always liked George."

"What is this, a love heptagon?" said Oliver. He was trying to be funny. He knew it didn't work, but he didn't know how else to react. This was all making his head spin. Katie was making his head spin.

"That's not the half of it," said Katie, "You know how Harry and Ginny are together? Well before that it was Ginny and Dean – you don't know him either, he was Chaser after you left. But anyway, since Ginny broke it off with him, Dean hooked up with Luna Lovegood – and Neville Longbottom always like Luna, but she just liked him as a friend, so now Neville's been dating this other girl – forgot her name – and Luna and Dean aren't together anymore – but anyway, Dean's hooked up with Demelza Robbins – she was also after you left. And I always suspected Demelza liked Harry a little, which can be expected because practically everyone has liked Harry at least once in their lives."

"Have you?" Oliver asked.

"I'll admit that while I was in hospital seventh year I entertained visions of him visiting me," said Katie. "But I was honestly a bit miffed that he got Captain and I didn't – which was the obvious choice but – you know," she shrugged in explanation, "vanity."

Oliver looked at her in confusion. He felt his forehead furrow. He didn't know quite how to react to this overflow of information. Katie had always been quiet. He wondered if she'd been storing it all away, looking for an avenue of release. He laughed uneasily, "What tangled lives we live, eh?"

Katie smiled. "Do indeed."

"So you and Lee – what I mean to say," Oliver stopped. This was utterly ridiculous. He had hoped Katie had felt the same, but from the way she was acting it was obvious she was oblivious.

"Yes?" prompted Katie.

"So that bit about you and Lee isn't true?" said Oliver, forcing himself to say it and get it bloody over with. "I mean, not that it matters. I just wanted to know if you were – were happy."

"Not a bit of it," said Katie. "I'm honestly surprised Angie's been talking. I've never known her to repeat something that hasn't been checked against three references."

"Well, she didn't technically _say_ anything," said Oliver uncomfortably. "It was more…implied. She said something about going out for drinks and how you wouldn't go unless Lee was there. Besides, it was a long time ago."

"I didn't know you'd pay attention," said Katie, "to something like that."

"Well," Oliver mumbled, low enough that possibly she wouldn't hear but hoping she possibly might, "to me it mattered."

Katie didn't say anything. They sat together in not quite companionable silence – because Oliver's answer seemed to have created a rift. He stared at the stained counter-top of the bar, not quite certain if Katie was looking at him but imagining he could feel her eyes boring side of his head. He sneaked a look and felt a surprisingly crushing sense of disappointment when he saw that, she too, was only looking at the bar.

Katie didn't speak. Oliver didn't speak. He began to think that she, perhaps, had really not heard his answer and was only waiting for him to proceed. _What a ridiculously awkward situation_, Oliver thought spitefully. _How did he always manage to get himself into spots like this?_

"That's sweet," murmured a voice. Oliver thought perhaps it was his imagination, until Katie spoke again. "I've never pictured you being jealous."

_I wasn't jealous_, Oliver almost said, but stopped himself because he _had_.

"I assure you there really is nothing between me and Lee," continued Katie. "You know, in case you needed any more approval."

Oliver looked up, because it was so casually put he had to make sure this wasn't a farce. She was laughing at him…had to be. Katie looked up at the same time and their eyes met, for what was shockingly the first time that evening.

She was beautiful. She had brown eyes and brown hair and the long scar running down her left cheek only showed she was brave, and loyal, and a hero. She was smiling, but in a way that made Oliver's question _Are you serious?_ dissolve on his tongue.

He felt his lips curve upward, in a smile that could only look punch-drunk and undignified. "I'm – glad to hear it," he said.

"So'm I," said Katie, in a voice that spoke _Well? _

"I'd love to – erm," Oliver cleared his throat. "I'd be flattered if you wanted to do this some time again." He waved vaguely to the half-empty bar, his hand sweeping past the landlady who was wiping a glass and staring at them.

Katie smirked, but in a surprisingly becoming way. "I'm flattered to be asked – and accordingly accept."

Oliver smiled, if that was possible – because he was still smiling from before. "Why that's – that's smashing, Katie. I'm more than flattered…."

"I'm glad it's been put to a unanimous decision," said Katie, looking radiant – and Oliver didn't think it was his imagination this time, "absolutely corking, Oliver."

Now that their gazes were locked, it seemed impossible to turn away. At least it didn't seem a circumstance to happen anytime soon.

The Broomsticks, sitting in the shadow of Hogwarts and holding ghosts of school-time jaunts, had always been Oliver's favorite spot. That was not to mention its less-then-poetic title, which reminded him of blue sky, the wind in his hair and Quaffle in his hands.

Apparently Katie felt the same, because he'd found her curled around the bar with a glass of mead and chatting amiably with the landlady, about things that breathed of mischief and nostalgia.

Her back to him, he'd ambled over and said, "Hello, Katie," as casually as he ever could and as if the meeting had been previously arranged. He'd already turned to Madame Rosmerta to order his own drink by the time Katie turned to meet him, mumbling as she recognized his voice, "Hello, Oliver."

They'd kept in touch, obviously. The whole team had kept in touch. They met for drinks, tried to ignore the absences, and played pick-up Quidditch when he, or Ginny, or Angie hadn't a game the next day. Consequently, the conversation between he and Katie was not apt to be forced.

"I apologize for rambling earlier, Oliver," Katie's voice brought him back to the present. She looked flatteringly ashamed, "I don't usually talk so much – least of all about other people."

"It's alright," said Oliver, admiring the flecks of scarlet in Katie's eyes. "I shan't let them know it was you who told."

"I suspect they'll soon be loads of gossip about us, won't there?"

"Any with a grain of truth?" said Oliver.

Katie smiled, a mysterious, devilish smile, which Oliver could not rightly see, because he was so transfixed with her eyes.

"Possibly."

* * *

I would like to personally extend my gratitude out to the reviewers, favoritors, and followers. Your support is so appreciated. I cannot convey enough the joy I receive when someone responds positively to my work – or responds at all. I hope that convinces you to review, as it is truly a wonderful display of love and very much cherished.

Thank you again,

- Foolondahill :)+(


	4. Trials

Author's Note: A bit of next-generation fun, because you couldn't very well expect the children of Harry Potter to get off without a smidgeon of talent where Quidditch was concerned.

* * *

Title: Trials

Lily Potter was _not_ nervous.

Just because James was Quidditch captain did _not_ mean Lily was scared out of her mind. He was _not_ going to deter her. She could very well tryout for the team and he being captain did _not_ change that. His teasing, his laughter, his terrorizing presence was _not_ going to make her mess up. James did _not_ make her nervous on a broomstick.

"Good luck, Lily," her best friend Mandy whispered softly from the bleachers, sitting beside Lily's other friend Chris.

"Blow them away, Lil," said Chris companionably.

Lily mustered a smile and adjusted her glasses on the bridge of her nose. She was not nervous. "Thanks," she managed to say, the word sticking to the sides of her throat on the way up.

She was _not_ nervous.

She stared at the group of Quidditch hopefuls who had assembled in the center of the pitch and thought fleetingly that life would be so much easier if she simply disregarded her broomstick and joined Mandy and Chris in a game of exploding snap. Life would be so much easier….

Lily reprimanded herself on her lack of Gryffindor pride, her lack of courage. She shut her eyes, shifted her broomstick from one shoulder to the other, and strutted out to join the rest of the students. Her heart was thudding beneath her chest. Her blood was pounding in her ears and screaming at her that this was a bad idea. She ignored the demons and continued to walk toward the center of the field.

The grass beneath her feet was the clear green and sparkling blades of early morning bathed in dew. The sky above her was folded blue, not a cloud in sight, with a mere breath of wind. It was lovely weather for Quidditch and Lily had nothing to worry about.

She hovered uncertainly on the outskirts of the assembled students. There was no one there that she knew well enough to join, to mutter hello and something about the weather, to stand with in companionable silence and try not to vomit.

A group of fifth-year boys glanced over at her, smirked and sniggered, and then looked away. Lily squared her shoulders, in more of an attempt to ease her fluttering nerves than anything to suggest durability. She focused on breathing through her nose so that she didn't have to open her mouth.

She was a third year. They might all look older than she was, but in truth she was in the center of the pack…approximately. It didn't matter that she was head and shoulders shorter than them…skinnier than the rest of them…the captain's sister unlike the rest of them. It didn't matter because Lily knew Quidditch. She lived and breathed and _fed_ of Quidditch. Lily was _not_ nervous.

The doors to the locker rooms burst open with a clatter. What remained of the Gryffindor teams streaked into the air over the pitch atop their broomsticks. There was James, leading the pack and his captain's badge gleaming in the sunlight on his chest. Lily ducked behind the fifth-years.

The team blazed around the pitch in a towering circle, their gold and crimson uniforms flying behind them. It was an impressive spectacle, meant to intimidate, Lily knew. They tossed the Quaffle between them, James did an extra loop around the goalposts, and the whole team came to alight on the ground before the hopefuls.

Several people clapped. Lily didn't. She peered around the boy she had taken refuge behind and noticed her cousin Louis standing beside James, brandishing his Beater's bat and flipping his hair in the direction of some sixth-year girls.

James smirked at the students, tossed the Quaffle casually from hand to hand, and opened his mouth to begin. Lily wondered if he always looked like such an arrogant berk. She reminded herself that she hadn't anything to worry about.

James caught the Quaffle in one hand, ran his other hand through his hair, and said, "Welcome to Quidditch trials. It's simply delightful of you all to show up –" he shot a cocky grin to one of the sixth-year girls, who giggled – "and I'm glad to see you all here on such a charming morning. A word of warning before we begin: we've only three spots on the team this year – Chaser, Beater, and Seeker. And as there are…fourteen of you here I'm afraid that means that eleven of you will have showed up for nothing." Lily was not nervous.

"Well, anyway, pleasantries out of the way – to business! Let's all take a nice, easy loop about the pitch, shall we…to make sure you can all fly. Hop on your broomstick and away with you."

Lily threw her leg over her broomstick and kicked off. She managed to hide herself in the midst of the students, taking care to weave between them so that she would be mostly hidden from James sight. She succeeded in getting halfway around the pitch before –

"Lily!" Lily stopped short, ducked so no one would fly into her, and wheeled around to face her brother. If he was going to catch her she might as well show off her ability. She had nothing to worry about.

James flew to meet her and it was amazing how much he looked like their mother in the instance of catching Lily doing something she shouldn't. Lily had never noticed that before.

"It's Quidditch trials going on, no time for a joyride," snapped James, crossing his arms so that he only straddled his broomstick with his legs. The other students had stopped and turned around, hovering in the air and watching her. The rest of the Gryffindor team stared curiously on from the ground.

"I know," said Lily baldly. "I'm here for tryouts."

James smiled wickedly, shot the other hopefuls a look, provoking laughter from the fifth-year boys, and turned back to Lily. "I'm sorry, Lils, what was that? I thought you said –"

Lily felt blood rush to her cheeks. She fought back the desire to throw herself and her broomstick at James across the air. "I'm here trying out, James and I've just as much right as anyone else –"

"This is Gryffindor trials, Lils," said James, rolling his eyes in dramatized exasperation. "Are you sure you're in the right place?"

"Of course I'm in the right place!" Lily retorted, genuine annoyance overtaking her embarrassment. No one called her _Lils_. "I'm a Gryffindor!"

James shrugged, "As long as you realized that trials are for us captains to root out those who aren't suited –"

"I know what trials are for!" Lily snapped. "And don't think because you're my brother it means you can prevent me from staying –"

"Of course it doesn't," said James. "It won't be because I'm your brother when I don't pick you for the team."

Lily knew her face had gone red. Her hands tightened around the handle of her broom in an effort to keep them from shaking. "Just get on with trials, _Jimmy_," she spat. "We'll see who gets picked for the team." The others were laughing at her but Lily didn't _care_.

She turned herself around and went rocketing around the pitch to complete her lap. Do to her enthusiasm she landed on the ground slightly unbalanced, but managed barely to stay on her feet. James noticed and smirked at her. Lily hoped to Merlin she didn't crack and skewer him on the end of her broomstick.

"Alright," said James, "Chasers to me." Lily stayed on the ground as James slowly made his way through the Chasers. It was the same when the Beaters were called. It was a very long while. The butterflies in her stomach were beginning to get violent. Finally James asked for Seekers and Lily mounted her broom again.

James smirked at her. He couldn't seem to resist when he said, "Seeker, Lils?"

"Yes," said Lily, and dared him to continue. She stifled the blush that threatened to creep up her cheeks.

There were only two other students trying for Seeker. One had been among the fifth year boys, another was a boy who was a year younger than Lily but still several inches taller. The rest of the students had assembled on the bleachers. The obviously all wanted to stay and see James summarily pick his little sister apart. Lily ignored this added pressure.

"Alright," said James to the three. "A Seeker needs to be fast and agile. They need quick reflexes and precision on a broomstick. Hopefully one of you lot will fit that description." James made her feel as if he spoke only to the two boys. She glared at him.

"So Lils, care to go first?"

Lily met his eye. First – in front of all these people? He was smiling, smirking devilishly and she didn't think she'd ever hated something more in her life. She _was not_ nervous.

"Happy to," she said when her throat opened enough to allow the words to slip through. She kicked off the ground. The air rushed in her ears and wind slammed into her cheeks. She felt the familiar swooping feeling in her stomach that meant she was free and a part of the sunshine and air, wholly fluid. She belonged here. She hadn't anything to worry about.

James joined her in the air. Strangely, Lily felt more comfortable now that they had left the spectators behind her. They were at home. She was playing pickup Quidditch with dad and her brothers. James wouldn't be so cruel as to completely bypass her talent just because they were related. Lily was not nervous.

"Okay, Lils," said James – Lily wished he'd stop _smirking_ – "Let's see what you've got."

"Bring it on," Lily whispered, because her voice was hiding somewhere behind the lump in her throat.

"Watch out for the Bludgers – Louis and Mickey will be hitting them at you – and try to catch these Muggle golf balls."

"Both at once?" Lily's voice escaped from her lips, and she mentally kicked herself.

James sniggered evilly and said, "Try not to embarrass yourself too much."

She wouldn't be the one to be embarrassed. But by then Lily's throat was too tight to allow herself to speak. And she backed up slightly from James, crouching in her starting position.

There was a moment when all she could hear was the beating of her heart over the wind, and then they began.

"Here you go then," James said. He pulled a golf ball from his pocket, took out his wand, and directed it into the air some feet away. It dropped and Lily pelted after it.

She ducked her head as a Bludger streaked towards her. She felt the cool resin fit into her palm as she caught the ball out of the sky.

James's voice drifted from behind her "On your toes, Lils!" and she turned in time to see him send another ball in the opposite direction. She cursed under her breath and sped off after it.

James dodged out of the way, laughing, as she rocketed by him. "Watch the Bludgers!" James crowed as both pelted towards her. Lily had no choice but to dive steeply out of their path. They collided but Lily lost sight of the golf ball.

"Care to try again?" said James. He was having much too much fun and she yearned to wipe the infuriating grin of his face.

Lily directed her broomstick towards the ball he had tossed into the distance. She managed again to catch it, but took a graze from a Bludger to her arm.

It seemed to go on for hours. James threw golf balls in every direction without mercy and the Beaters acted with equal vigor. James seemed to revel in Lily's discomfort and she made a pretense of knocking him off his broomstick whenever she got the chance.

"Last one, Lil," James said at last. Lily looked up in horror and the ball she had just caught slipped from her fingers. Even from the distance she could see the gleam of his teeth as he grinned. The ball in his hand dropped and descended downward from the point of his wand, accelerating with undue haste.

Lily wheeled her broom about with all the strength she could muster. She threw all her weight forward, thinking with everything she had, screaming for nothing more than to feel that ball enclosed in her fist –

She sped below James. His voice drifted dimly behind the roar of wind, "Lily, pull up! Forget it! You're going to crash!"

Lily believed him. She saw the ground rise to meet her. She saw the bead of white against green that was the golf ball and focused all on reaching it with her fingers…. Her hand left the handle of the broomstick. She pitched forward because there were only _inches_ –

Her fingers brushed the ball's cold surface and folded it into her hand. She threw her head backward, fighting against gravity, followed through with her neck and back, and she was suddenly moving in the opposite direction, spinning so that she was staring at the sky, and then at the ground –

She smelt grass and dirt and opened her eyes. The blades of grass before her eyes were swaying slightly in the breeze. From the moisture on her cheek and soaking in the knees of her robes she could tell the ground had not yet dried from the morning dew.

"Lily!" the ground vibrated under James's footfalls. Suddenly he was by her side and rolling her roughly onto her back. She felt her lips spread into a grin. She held her fist, hiding the golf ball pressed in her palm, and stuffed it into his face.

"Got it!" she shrieked, unable to hide her exaltation.

James released her and sat back on his heels in disgust, "That was stupid, Lily! I was sure you were going to be flattened!"

"You're the one who threw it!" said Lily, unable to feel wholly annoyed because she had _won_ –

"You still shouldn't have gone after it!" said James.

"I had everything under control," she lied, and pushed herself into a sitting position. Merlin, she ached….

Mandy and Chris were applauding from the bleachers. Even some of the fifth-year boys looked mildly impressed. Louis flew overhead and flashed her a smile. She fleetingly thought to thank her father later for buying her a top of the line broomstick her last birthday.

"Just don't do that again," said James and roughly helped her to her feet.

Lily tried unsuccessfully to hide her grin, caught sight of a dangerous blur behind her brother's head and the words were wrenched from her throat, "James – _watch out_!"

James ducked on impulse and the Bludger that had been pelting towards the back of his head brushed his shoulder – and crashed into Lily's face.

* * *

It was so very comfortable, so very warm. Lily was lying on something soft. She felt as if she was in the light doze of early morning, just about to wake after a wonderful night's sleep….

"So you moved out of the way and Lily got hit instead?" said a voice. It was hard to focus. Words drifted lazily from her ears to her brain, comprehension was slow. It was so comfortable.

"How was I supposed to know what she was screaming at?" said another voice, sounding defensive and vaguely desperate.

"Well, she doesn't look very good – do you suppose we should tell them to get Mum and Dad?"

"No!" said the second voice. "She's fine!"

The voices were becoming more defined. She could wrap her mind around definite syllables and undulations of tone. She didn't want to wake up. She wanted to fall back to sleep. She wished whoever it was that was talking would shut up.

"So, was she any good?"

"I dunno…. Louis was going to finish up."

"Come on, James," said the first voice, "you can't _not_ make her Seeker after this. From what I've been hearing she was stellar."

"She was alright."

"So, if she lives you'll consider it?"

"Don't say that, Al! I thought she was dead when she just _dropped_ like that, and all that blood –"

Lily's eyes snapped open of their own accord and above her she found her brothers, blurred because her glasses had been removed, but recognizable nonetheless.

"Lily!" said James, abruptly catching sight of her.

"What happened?" she asked, her voice was hoarse. Her nose hurt. She lifted a hand tentatively to her face and instead of skin found tightly wound bandages.

"Broken nose," said Albus helpfully with a smile, "got cracked open with a Bludger."

"But you'll be okay," said James quickly, "Madame Pomfrey patched you up."

"I mean what happened at tryouts," said Lily, and her chest tightened in expectation.

Albus looked at James and James pulled a face that screamed of irritation.

"Welcome to the team," he admitted grudgingly.


	5. Unit

A rather hastily concocted chapter and I'm not overly enthusiastic about how it came out. I hope someone likes it...

Title: Unit

Katie Bell had always felt as if she didn't belong.

There were several contributing factors that all lead to that same conclusion. Katie had worked it down to about five.

Firstly, her father was a Muggle and her mother a witch, which meant Katie was a half-blood and not really a part of either society. She acted like a Muggle when she went to see her father's family and acted like a witch when they visited her mother's.

She wore robes when she came in to work with her mum at the Ministry and wore jeans and t-shirts during the rest of the time because they almost always lived in Muggle neighborhoods. She read Muggle books and watched Muggle cinema and couldn't talk about it around wizards because they didn't understand. Her mother cooked and cleaned house with her wand and Katie couldn't mention that to Muggles because then she would be arrested.

Secondly, her father had been the victim of what he called contingent employment, which meant he moved where there was a job and then moved again when there was another job. Katie could remember living in seven different houses, apartments, and cottages in the first eleven years of her existence.

Thirdly, her father had insisted she become enrolled in a public school system. She had attended four different primary schools since the September after she turned five. She had had fifteen different teachers and met two-hundred and eighteen students that had been her classmates. Often times they moved during the summer so that, if she happened to become acquainted well enough with one of her peers, a promise to write was forgotten in the shuffle.

Fourthly, her Irish twin, Maria, whom was ten months older than Katie but would be in the same year at Hogwarts always seemed to usurp her in everything. Maria (a surefire Ravenclaw) was smarter than Katie. Maria (blond, thin, and tall) was prettier than Katie. Maria (who had kept in touch with several people from the different schools the sisters had attended) was friendlier than Katie. And Maria (the more athletic) was better at Quidditch than Katie – even though Maria didn't like Quidditch nearly as much as Katie did. Katie bordering on _worshiped_ Quidditch.

Fifthly, Katie simply believed herself to be an outcast. It couldn't be helped when she would rather read than gossip. She would rather sit quietly by herself and think than play games. She would rather play Quidditch than shop for clothes. She was gawky and awkward and didn't know how to talk to people. She didn't have much in common with any of the other girls she had met. She didn't have much in common with anyone.

Secretly Katie hated it all. She hated being half-blood. She hated contingent employment. She hated primary school. She hated not liking the things other children her age liked. Sometimes she even hated Maria…but usually not for very long.

That was why she looked forward to Hogwarts. She looked forward to being able to stay in one place for the majority of the year – and stay there for seven years straight. She looked forward to having the same teachers and classmates. She looked forward to being sorted into a House where the other children would have similar interests as her. She looked forward to being sorted into different Houses than Maria (they _couldn't_ be in the same). Most of all she looked forward to the infinitesimal possibility of finally, actually, miraculously belonging.

* * *

She mounted the Hogwarts Express more nervously than she had anticipated. She pulled away from her mother's arms and felt her dad's whiskered jaw against her cheek with a surprising amount of tears. She was positively shaking in fear and couldn't understand it, because she hadn't anything to be afraid of. This was what she wanted. This was where she belonged –

Maria ran off to sit with the first group of first-years she encountered. Katie wandered the corridor in abject uncertainty looking for someone to sit with. The sisters had made a pact not to sit with each other. Finally, after years of being her only playmate by compulsion, Maria could experience a bit of freedom.

Katie looked in on the students in the compartments she passed. She wondered what their names were, what they enjoyed doing, and if possibly they might be future friends. She searched for faces that looked promising, perhaps a head bent over an open book or Quidditch magazine. She bypassed compartments that already looked full or exceptionally rowdy. She didn't want to intrude.

Finally she came upon a compartment that only had two people within it and, having mustered as much courage as she could, she knocked on the glass to be let in. She was admitted and introductions were made.

They were both girls. Sally had blond hair and Ursula had brown. They were both first years. Sally had three older sisters, all of whom had been Hufflepuffs and Ursula had an older brother who had been a Ravenclaw. They talked about Diagon alley and a little boutique where they had both gotten dress robes the year before. They stayed until lunch and then went out to explore. Katie waited for them to return but they never did.

* * *

Katie wished for all the world that Bell wasn't so near the top of the alphabet. There were only four other first-years called before Katie. She didn't like being so in the front. It called so much more attention to her.

The hat spoke to her, which was not altogether unexpected because her mother had well-prepared her. It still made Katie jump, though, because it was much louder than she expected, much closer, as if he spoke directly into her ear. It sifted through her thoughts in a way that was not particularly comfortable.

"You shouldn't be at all surprised. It is your head I'm on."

_Are you a Legilimence? _

"It isn't the first time I've been asked it, but no. I am a reflection of your inner being, moreover not an external penetrator."

_Oh. _

"You don't get it, do you?"

_Not really but Maria probably will. _

"Ah yes, your sister. Older, smarter, prettier, and friendlier. If what I'm reading here is correct your sister is quite the charmer."

_Not really._

"It was sarcasm, my dear. Of course I already knew that. My, my, what a façade you have built up."

_Says a hat that lives through peoples' thoughts. I could say the same to you. _

"Touché. Ravenclaw, perhaps?"

_Maria's getting into Ravenclaw._

"I wasn't aware you were a seer, as well."

_I recognize _that_ as sarcasm. _

"Fast learner, are you? Snarky little – Slytherin?"

_I'm half-blood._

"You'd be surprised how many half-bloods get into there. I would know. They really aren't as bad as they all make out to be. You'd fit right in with your masks."

Katie tried not to think anything, but it was hard, as she'd never tried to shut down her brain before.

"It's harder for girls than boys, you know," said the hat understandably. "Did you know that boys literally have a box labeled 'nothing' in which they can delve their minds? I've visited it many times."

_Oh? _

"Indeed. So not Slytherin?"

_Only as a last resort, I suppose. _

"If you insist. Hufflepuff?"

_Only as a later resort. That's where all the leftovers go. _

There was the sound like the crumpling of newspaper and Katie wondered if perhaps the hat was laughing.

_Haven't you got anywhere that I fit? Somewhere that you noticed right away? _

"Well you've run me nearly out of options. You're quite neutral, aren't you? Very well…Gryffindor?"

_I'm not brave._

"What is bravery? Certainly not the absence of cowardice. Do you know you told me that?"

_You didn't think it up yourself?_

"I've never had an original thought in my life, my dear. No, it was Albus Dumbledore – who was admittedly not as original at the age of eleven as he is now."

_Oh?_

"You certainly aren't much of a conversationalist. Anyway, he was trying to convince me not to put him in Ravenclaw."

_It worked? _

"I'm very easily swayed. After all, it isn't I who makes the final decision."

_It isn't?_

"I've already told you I'm merely an echo of your mind. My decision – in essence – is yours."

Before Katie had a chance to reply the hat continued, "So tell me about Gryffindor."

_Even if courage is as you say – not the absence of fear_ –

"Don't paraphrase. It was cowardice."

_What's the difference?_

"Not much, really, but I can only relate to you what was the original thought."

_Well anyway, I'm still not suited for Gryffindor. There are other things that matter, too. Pride and – whatever else there was. _

"What is humility? Certainly not the absence of pride."

_Who thought that one up?_

"You did."

_Me?_

"Yes, you. There you go, catch it now? But we keep going off topic – tell me more about Gryffindor."

_There's not much else. I just don't think I'd fit in. _

"Who's to say what fits in –"

_If you tell me I thought _that_ up I'll take you off my head. _

"Well if you'd stop contradicting me I might have sorted you from the start."

_I don't think I've ever been admonished by a hat before. _

"It is your thoughts, remember."

Katie didn't know how to respond to that, but felt uncomfortably as if she'd been one-upped by an inanimate object – or by herself, and she didn't know which was worse.

_Do you normally share other people's thoughts with students?_ Thought Katie, _like you told me what Dumbledore had told you? _

"With a certain amount of age and a certain amount of fame comes a certain amount of public domain," said the hat.

_So you won't tell Maria anything that you've said to me or I've said to you?_

"Not at least until you're of age and a star Chaser on the Applebee Arrows."

Katie had almost forgotten it could read her mind. She blushed at the thought of all the other things that were hiding up there.

"Not to worry, nothing too shocking, my dear. But who _is_ Christopher Dodger?"

_Shut it. Besides, if you're telling the truth than you already know. _

"True, true. Is he really all that attractive?"

_Get on with it, please. _

"That's right. We should. So, where to put you –"

_So far we've decided not in Ravenclaw, not in Hufflepuff, not in Slytherin, and not –_

"Not so fast. I'm still in charge here."

_But you said I was the one who decided._

"Even so, I can sometimes sift through the layers and folds of your mind much better than any eleven-year-old child."

_Oh. Then as it looks like I don't fit anywhere I'll give you free rein._

"Finally! I'm glad this conversation is coming to an end. I get at least one of you tiresome minds every year."

_I'm sorry. _

"Don't be. You can't help it – and I don't suppose the others can either. Amusingly they usually all end up in – GRYFFINDOR!"

* * *

That night in the dormitory Katie asked the other girls if any of them enjoyed Quidditch. All of them had said no, and stifled their giggles at the stack of Muggle fiction Katie unloaded from her trunk.

The next morning Katie woke to find all the other girls had already left. She dressed quietly and ate at the end of the table by herself. She got to her first class before even the teacher arrived and read the first chapter in the text book.

By the end of that first week, Katie tried to ignore that fact that her most in-depth conversation had taken place with a hat.

It wasn't a very promising beginning.

* * *

Katie attended Gryffindor Quidditch trials, not to try-out, but just to watch. She hid mid-flight up the bleachers and watched as the crowd of Gryffindor hopefuls were sorted through and discarded.

The team consisted of three seventh-years, Seeker, and two Chasers, and a very attractive fourth-year who was Keeper. They found a second-year girl as Chaser and two second-year boys as Beaters – who were twins and had red hair. It was a fair team.

Half-way through trials the captain noticed her and asked if she'd come to try-out. Katie felt her face go red. Her tongue got caught behind her teeth and all she could do was shake her head. It made her feel dizzy.

Someone said, "Merlin, Charlie, she's just a first year. Of course she hasn't."

The captain shrugged and walked away and Katie was glad no one else looked at her for the rest of the afternoon.

* * *

Katie kept to herself, studied mostly, and made friends with the books in the library. She wrote home once a week and occasional met Maria by the lake. Sometimes she ate meals with the girls in her dormitory and sometimes she ate alone.

She answered questions quietly during lessons, but made a point not to raise her hand in classes they shared with Ravenclaw.

* * *

She went back to her parents for summer holiday and found herself living in yet another flat, in an unfamiliar neighborhood, and with unrecognizable neighbors.

One night while she was washing the dishes her mum came in to ask her if there was any friend from Hogwarts she'd like over for a weekend, as Maria had already asked to have someone. Katie shook her head, no, and said all her friends were busy. One was in France, one had to work on the farm, another lived with her grandmother over the summer.

Her mum told Katie not to hesitate to ask if she changed her mind.

* * *

Katie debated with herself for weeks. First-years never got on the team but Katie wasn't a first-year anymore. Maria wasn't trying-out but Maria didn't care about Quidditch. First-years weren't allowed broomsticks but there weren't any rules like that pertaining to second-years. She wasn't good. Maybe she was good enough. It would be so embarrassing if she didn't make it. What if she made a terrible mistake? What if everyone laughed at her? What if she didn't make the right impression?

What if she made friends?

She decided she would sit in the bleachers, as she did the year before. If anyone asked her, if anyone took any notice of her, then maybe she would try-out. She made a point not to bring her broom, because she didn't want to be disappointed when no one looked her way.

There were five people on the team from the year before. There were only two places left. Seven people showed up. Katie watched as one by one were put through the paces. She could tell the captain wasn't impressed (the handsome fourth-year Keeper who was now a fifth-year).

She waited for someone who was truly good to sweep into the air and away with the competition. She waited for the captain to shout, "Alright. You're Chaser." But it didn't happen. Eventually each person had trailed away and the team collected in a disappointed huddle. Katie stood to leave.

"Hey!" shouted one of the other Chasers on the team, a girl with dark skin and hair, "You play Quidditch?"

Katie turned, wanting to see who the girl was shouting to. All five of the team members were looking at Katie.

Katie felt herself go red. Her tongue was stuck behind her teeth. Half-way through shaking her head her brain screamed at her _what are you doing, you bloody idiot? Of course you play Quidditch! _

Katie almost nodded her head but settled for a shrug. Noncommittal was safe.

"You come to try-out?" said the captain.

Katie almost shrugged. She nodded her head.

"Why didn't you come forward before?" said one of the Beaters, one of the twins with red hair and a wide grin.

Katie swallowed.

"What's your name?" said the captain.

"Katie," her voice wafted across the air, faintly so that she could hardly hear it. "Katie Bell."

"Well," said the captain, "do you have a broom?"

"Not with me," said Katie.

"Why didn't you bring it with you?" said the other Beater, the other twin with red hair and a wide grin.

The Chaser who had spoken before stepped forward and thrust her broomstick into Katie's hand, "Here, take mine."

Katie swept her eyes passed the five team members. She felt her hands shaking and blood rushing to her head. She felt dizzy.

The Chaser holding the broom was smiling encouragingly, daringly.

Katie grasped hold.

* * *

It was to Alicia and Angelina that Katie opened up for the first and only time about her sorting. She told them how the Sorting Hat had run through all the other houses before deciding on Gryffindor. Katie explained that that had made her feel even more that she didn't belong anywhere.

Alicia and Angelina had looked at each other and then back to her.

"Honestly, Katie, I'd say it was the only way around," said Angelina.

"Yes," Alicia agreed, "it seems to me that means you'd belong just about anywhere."

* * *

Author's note: Katie's conversation with the Sorting Hat came out a whole lot more, well, I'm sure 'intellectual' isn't the right word, because it probably_ isn't_, but it was a bit more meandering than I first intended.


	6. Kindred

Author's Note: today is the official start of my Christmas season so I'm posting this to the tune of God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen. I hope you enjoy; reviews are always a blessing.

Proceed with caution and a box of tissues...

* * *

Title: Kindred

"Hello, Charlie," whispered the girl weakly. Her gold-tinted eyes were bleary and clouded with pain.

"Who – do I know you?" said Charlie, because he hadn't any idea how to react to this. He hadn't even expected the girl to be alive.

Her chest rose and fell in obvious strain. Her breathing was shallow and wet sounding. She seemed to be trying to smile. "I – I'm Alicia," she croaked. "Don't you…don't you remember?"

Charlie's brain took a moment to recall, and brought him a picture of a skinny girl with flowing black hair and more precision on a broomstick then her age called for. "Alicia. Of – of course I remember."

She'd have been graduated by now. He wondered how she had gotten word to come back. She must have family or friends who had notified her, like Charlie.

"You look good, Charlie," she said, her breath hissing from her teeth in an agonizing stream. Blood and sweat clotted her face. She was barely recognizable.

"So," _so do you_. "It's good to see you again, Alicia," said Charlie, forcing his voice to issue from behind the block in his throat.

"How have you been, Charlie?" said Alicia. It was strange, unnatural and entirely unthinkable for this conversation to be taking place now – here. When she was dying, and Charlie was kneeling by her side and didn't know how to help, and Fred was –

"I've been fine."

"Getting any Quidditch played? You were good, Charlie. Could have played for England…. Good Captain…." Her voice was slipping away, as if she was running into the distance. Half the time her lips moved and no sound came out.

"Not much anymore, Alicia. What about you? You were a stellar Chaser – I would have made you a starter if it hadn't been for Aiden. You deserved it. I'm sorry –"

"Ts okay, Charlie," she murmured. "I haven't been playing much…either. Angelina has…though…wonderful, her…signed with the…the Wasps…"

"Take it easy," breathed Charlie. He reached over to untangle a string of hair from her cheek.

Alicia seemed unable to stop. Her words left her in wheezes. She seemed feverish and unsteady. "Good old times at Hogwarts…I hadn't realized how much I…I missed it. I…good to be back…."

"Yes," whispered Charlie. The words stuck to his tongue on the way to tumbling out of his mouth. "They were good years."

"Is it…is the Battle over…?" she hissed.

"All over," whispered Charlie, and took her hand, because it was lying lifeless and lonely by her side, clutching at the blood-stained rock.

"And – and _he's_ gone?"

"Yes, Alicia. He's gone," said Charlie. "Harry finished it."

"I'm glad," she murmured, barely moving her lips, as if the strength was leaving her even for that. Her eye-lids fluttered and she seemed to struggle to keep them open. "Am I going to die?" The question came out of the momentary silence, sounding clear and strong and not at all like the stuttering of her voice before.

Charlie couldn't answer.

"Stay with me…" she whispered. "Don't…leave."

"I won't," he said with difficulty. He swallowed and cleared his throat.

"I…I'm glad you found me…Charlie. It's good…good to see you again…you were…good captain…."

"Take it easy, Alicia. Don't talk so much."

"I used to have…had a bit of a crush on you…Charlie." Her voice left her lips in a light breeze, the last dregs of the calming storm. "I…I was heart-broken when you…didn't pick me… for the team…."

"I'm sorry," the words left him like the something that had held them back had been broken. _He_ felt broken. He felt like he was dying, too. He felt water pool at the base of his eyes, blinked, and felt it slip down his cheeks.

"Ts okay," she mumbled sleepily, and shut her eyes finally. "I wanted you…to know…'ts okay… you were a good captain…don't leave…hold…."

"I'm here. I won't leave you."

Charlie didn't know anything about Alicia Spinnet, whether or not she had a boyfriend, if she was leaving anyone behind, whether or not she had ever been kissed…been loved. Charlie had kissed many girls. He had loved many, been loved back by many.

But Charlie had never known love like this. This desperate keening of a soul to be loved one last time before death, to be held one last time by any kindred human being….

"Thank you…."

He waited for the calming rhythm of her voice to continue. He'd grown accustomed to the broken melody of her voice even in this short time. The silence that met his ears was cruel and unexpected. He looked down at her face, calm and gone utterly still, and knew she had left him.

He clung to her hand and cried, because it was so much easier to sob over an almost nonentity then to return to the Great Hall where Fred –

But Alicia wasn't an unknown. For that last moment, the last breaths of her life he had felt a part of her – had felt joined, as if he'd known her all her life, not just the few weeks all those years ago….

But she was – was gone, and so was Fred, and Charlie sobbed.


End file.
